


Lovina Vargas and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by cutthroatpixie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Hetalia Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutthroatpixie/pseuds/cutthroatpixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romana was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovina Vargas and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Romana was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

She had awoken, hot and sweaty, after a failed attempt to kick her covers off in her sleep had ended with her falling face first to the floor. "Fucking heatwaves," she mumbled, rubbing her nose and sitting up. It was far too early for her to be up, especially since she had nothing planned for this godforsaken day, but there was no way she was getting back to sleep, either.

To make things worse, when she went to get dressed, she realised the bra she attempted to put on was _too big_.

"Fucking clothes," she yelled, throwing the accursed clothing article at her door, only to have it hit an entering Spain in the face.

"Lovi, why are you throwing your sister's clothes?"

She kneed Spain in the stomach on her way out of the room, pulling a shirt on over her (braless) self as she stormed off down the stairs. Ever the idiot, Spain followed her after catching his breath, despite the fact that any normal person would see a problem with this.

"Oi, bastard, where's all my tomatoes?"

"Buenos dias, mi sol." Spain laughed as he watched Romana rifle through all the cupboards, then the fridge, and then (for some reason) the mostly empty waste-bin.

First the weather, then her clothes, and now her tomatoes. She groaned and brushed past Spain once again, grumbling about horrid days and stupid Spanish bastards and disappearing food.

"You can come to my house if you—"

"No," she yelled. A beat. "Why the hell are you here anyway? I know I didn't invite you over."

"You never do, no."

She cursed some more and walked out the front door, not at all surprised when Spain followed her out.

And just to make the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day even worse, he continued to follow her. All the way to the market.

To add to her misery, when she slapped his hand away for the fifteenth time ("Oh, come on, you used to always hold my hand when we went to the market, Lovi~"), a couple "well meaning" assholes had come over to see if everything was alright. They'd originally been sympathetic towards her, but after her exclamation of, "No, I'm fine, go mind your own goddamn business," a minor tiff had followed.

Spain dragged her kicking and flailing form away, leaving behind two very confused tourists.

"They started it," she said defensively when she finally pulled herself away from his grip.

Spain chuckled and ignored the remark, grabbing her hand once again and leading her over to a man selling tomatoes. Romana's anger was momentarily stilled when her hunger took over, and she immediately set about picking out the best looking fruit.

Since the world was against her, though, she did not realise she'd forgotten her wallet until _after_ she'd filled a small basket with the tomatoes. Spain picked up the tab, but that only increased her fury.

Basket in hand, she started on the walk back home, briskly stomping off and attempting to just ignore the man shadowing behind her.

Hiding in crowds of other people didn't work, yelling at him didn't work, and slamming the door in his face didn't work, and even Romana knew when to just give up, so when Spain offered to take the tomatoes and make lunch, she begrudgingly let him.

"You need to calm down," Spain said, voice low and soothing. A hand rested on Romana's shoulder, somehow cool despite the heat, and for once she let Spain touch her without pushing him away, silently enjoying the feel of his fingers gently massaging her tense muscles.

"Don't tell me what to do," she responded half-heartedly, flushing when she leaned into the touch.

"Just a sugg—" Spain was cut off by the sound of water boiling over onto the stove, and he pulled away, dissolving the brief moment of calm. Romana followed him into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and irritably watching Spain make a mess of the place.

She was eventually presented with a delicious plate of pasta and homemade tomato sauce. "You used too many spices," was her only comment of thanks as she devoured the meal.

Just as she was maybe, sort of, most definitely not really starting to think the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day was starting to take a turn for the better, a thought struck her.

"Wait, you bastard, how'd you know that bra earlier was my sister's?!"


End file.
